Popcorn Flick
by Weavillain
Summary: A night of bonding between brother and sister turns into a night of panic, horror, and uncertainty. A tradition of fun and games develops into a frantic situation that demands immediate intervention. In the end, it is up to Lynn to save her little brother, Lincoln, from death. Can she rise to the occasion or will death snatch the Loud family's only son away?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** As promised, this is the Lynn story that I brought up at the end of "Clown in the Dumps". Fair warning, though, this isn't in my comfort zone. Don't expect anything groundbreaking.

* * *

"Hey, Lynn!" Lincoln called out from the kitchen, rummaging through the snack pantry above the microwave.

"Yeah, bro?!" Lynn answered just as loudly from the living room.

Finally, Lincoln's hands grasped onto the two boxes of popcorn he had been looking for (something that _would've_ been much easier had it not been for Lisa neglecting the rule about storing her beakers in the pantries…again). He pulled them out slowly, doing his best to do so without accidentally knocking over Lisa's beakers from their undeserved storage space and making a mess. Upon his success, he looked between the two choices and was satisfied with what he grabbed.

"You want extra buttery or the spicy chili-flavored popcorn?!" Lincoln yelled back.

He asked out of formality, really. Knowing Lynn, there wasn't a reason in the world to think that she wouldn't choose-

"Spicy chili-flavored! I'm feeling extra daring tonight!" Lynn said enthusiastically.

Lincoln rolled his eyes at her predictable answer but did so without contempt. He didn't care what kind of popcorn they shared as long as their movie night was going without a hitch.

"Gotcha!" he replied and got to work on his popcorn preparation duties in a hurry as he removed an unpopped bag from its box and tossed it in the microwave in the blink of an eye. As he pressed the buttons for the microwave to operate for four minutes, Lincoln thought back to how this evening with Lynn had all played out.

To celebrate a promotion that his father earned today, he planned on taking the entire family out to eat at some fancy-sounding Korean restaurant that he didn't care to remember. All he and Lynn cared about was that it would get in the way of them watching the premiere of a movie rerun that they had been dying to watch together since it was hyped during commercial breaks for over a month now.

DVR'ing the movie was out of the question since DVR'ing programs was a privilege that their parents granted to each of their children for one week at a time and this week, it was Luan's turn. Erasing her vintage comedy routines and silent vaudeville shows, in order to make room in storage for the upcoming two-hour action flick, would only get them in trouble.

That's why in the end, Lincoln had no choice but to barter with his father; in exchange for he and Lynn getting to stay at home and watch their movie, they would work together and do every chore around the house for a week. It was going to be heavy burden to bear but thankfully, not only was he willing to endure it but Lynn was also up to taking the extra chores head-on, much like she did with any another goal. It made it all the more satisfying to know that her inclination was because, in her own words:

" _Don't worry about it! Spending quality time with my little brother is worth it!"_

The microwave beeping signified that his buttery, spicy treat was ready to be eaten. The peppery smell tingled in his nostrils as he inhaled the mouthwatering scent robustly. Pulling out a red bowl from the dishwasher, he snagged the popcorn out of the microwave, taking care not to burn his fingers on the heated surface of the bag as his fingers lightly pinched the top. With one precise flick of the wrists, the bag tore open, allowing Lincoln to pour the salty, savory snack inside the bowl in the blink of an eye.

Humming merrily to himself, Lincoln moseyed out of the kitchen with the bowl, approached his sister on the couch, and plopped the bowl into her open lap, which was covered by a red blanket that she had draped over her lower half.

"Here you go," Lincoln said as he took his own seat right next to her, taking care not to invade her personal space in the process.

Lynn grinned. "Thanks, Linc."

Even though the movie hadn't started yet, Lynn was still up to helping herself to a few handfuls of popcorn. As she reached down to grab some popcorn, she noticed Lincoln doing something conspicuous in the corner of her eye. She turned to him and saw him reaching over the side of the couch and pulling up his blanket from his bedroom.

Lynn frowned at her little brother's actions. She set the popcorn in the middle of them and tugged on his sleeve, coaxing Lincoln to look to her.

"You know, you didn't _have_ to bring your own blanket," she said sternly. "We could always share mine."

"Pssh. Nice try, Lynn," Lincoln scoffed with a smirk.

Lynn bit back a snicker, though she couldn't help the tiny little mischievous smile that spread across her face. Looks like she had been busted.

"What'd do you mean?" she asked oh-so sweetly.

Lincoln folded his arms in triumph as one of his eyebrows perked up.

"If we share the same blanket, you're just gonna Dutch oven me when I least expect it. I'm not falling for that one again," he playfully reprimanded with a finger wag.

Lynn gasped theatrically as she held her face in her hands.

"Whaaaaaaat?! Noooooooo!" she declared with sarcasm that she hoped he wouldn't detect. "C'mon, Lincoln, do you really think I'd be so cruel?"

"Yes," Lincoln answered. "Yes, I do."

They stared at each other, looking to see which of them would cave under the pressure of their little game. After ten seconds, Lynn broke away and sighed. Even as competitive as she was, she knew she couldn't beat Lincoln when he was one step ahead of her.

"Ugh, fine, you got me. Guess I'll have to keep my "fart-illery" at bay for today," she grumbled as she rested her head against the palm of her hand and glared at the TV.

"Heh, "fart-illery"," Lincoln laughed. "Nice one, Lynn. Luan would be proud."

Hush befell the room after that. Though Lynn seemed fine with just waiting for the movie to begin in silence, Lincoln really wasn't. He loved his sister's lively presence that she seemed to carry around with her and wanted some lively atmosphere interjected in his viewing experience. Why else would he sacrifice his free time to do this with her?

Snagging a few popcorn pieces for himself, Lincoln asked, before popping them into his mouth, "Anyways, you lookin' forward to movie night?"

That grabbed Lynn's attention immediately, who leaned towards him excitedly, mouth agape and revealing the mushy food that she hadn't cared to swallow.

"Heck yeah! I've been waiting to watch "Eliminator: Origyns" for months now!"

She gulped down her popcorn before she reclined back to her seat, though she still didn't take her eyes off of him.

"Sucks we couldn't see it because we all had to watch "Outside In" while it was playing in theaters but now that it's airing on TV, we can finally check it out for ourselves. Just the two of us."

' _That's right,'_ Lincoln thought happily. _'Just the two of us.'_

Before the lyrics of a certain Bill Withers R&B single could start playing in his head, Lynn broke him out of his reverie.

"And you know what else is really cool?"

"What?"

"I heard that at one point in the movie, we're gonna hear someone say, _'Join me if you want to survive!'_ , just like in the old movies."

"Niiiiiiice," Lincoln droned contently. "Good to see that they're keeping in touch with their roots after all these years."

"Y'know, unlike "Eliminator: Deliverance"," Lynn said contemptuously and stuck her tongue out.

Lincoln shuddered at the thought of that cinematic train wreck. He'd rather watch an entire season marathon of "Blarney the Dinosaur" than watch that dreck again.

"Yech!" he groaned.

"Double yech!" Lynn agreed.

Sharing laughter at the memory of that awful movie, Lincoln reclined in his seat, snuggling into the warm texture of the couch and cocooning himself with his blanket, leaving only his upper body free of restraint.

Suddenly, his tongue began to sting heatedly and his throat prickle with tiny, burning stabs. He winced at the discomfort and knew exactly why he was being blitzed with these sensations; the popcorn. It had been his first time trying such a bold flavor of popcorn so of course, unlike Lynn, he wouldn't be used to the zesty taste.

Unwrapping himself from his blanket, he stood up, prompting Lynn to look up at him.

"Wait a sec," Lincoln said.

"What's up?" Lynn questioned.

"I'm going to get me something to drink," he replied and was just about to leave her until Lynn stopped him with a request.

"By the way, if there's any root beer left, make you grab me a can or two, okay?"

Lincoln grimaced at the thought.

"Uh, spicy chili-flavored popcorn AND root beer? You're gonna be on the on the toilet for hours if you consume all of that in one sitting, y'know."

Lynn waved off the possibility with an eager grin.

"Like I told you, Lincoln, I'm feeling _extra_ daring tonight."

Knowing there was nothing he could do to change her mind, Lincoln just shrugged.

"If you say so. Just don't blame me if you have stomach cramps until you're 30."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes as he turned to head back to the kitchen to retrieve soft drinks for the two of them.

The knowledge of move time coming to dawn, as well as the growing stab of spiciness in his mouth, urged him to take haste. Though he wasn't in the most comfortable state right now, Lincoln didn't care. Hanging out with Lynn had its downsides but one thing he could always look forward to was the dynamic energy Lynn would inject into their pastimes. It made their outings unique because with Lynn, he didn't always know which direction she would take things and Lincoln, someone who was always used to being prepared to tackle any situation with his wits and cunning strategies, appreciated being taken by surprise every now and then.

But, even with only a few of the cards being laid out on the table, there was one thing that Lincoln knew for sure, a truth that was certain as the setting of the Sun; this would be a night that he would never forget.

He just didn't realize it would be for reasons that he never could've imagined.

* * *

 **A/N:** I feel like such a hack for the "fart-illery" pun since I snagged that off of TV Tropes. :(

That and the unsubtle, real world movie references were vomit-inducingly awful. Sorry about that.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I thought long and hard about if this chapter's content was "proper" with my convictions and I've concluded that...I'm a bit inconclusive but I'm leaning on the side of "no". What do I mean by this? Well, I've made an author's note about this issue in "Room to Spare" but to sum it up, I try to avoid making sequels and "follow-ups" on episodes because I want my stories to have their own identity. The most I go for are references that add to the story but don't dominate it entirely. I'm still on the fence with if this chapter will do that but I guess we'll all see by the end of it. In addition, this chapter will contain a reference to a certain infamous TLH episode and do so in a way that will fly in the face of…other convictions.

See, if you haven't gotten it by now, this chapter will be referencing the events of "No Such Luck", an episode that has inspired countless "fix-it fics" and "rage fics" alike. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a really big fan of most of them, essentially because of how their direction often flanderizes the characters and how overall, the stories are often melodramatic, aimless narratives that don't do anything other than give the sisters "what they had coming" and basically rewriting established canon by making Lincoln the "black sheep" of his family that's always been taken advantage of and bullied.

Now, believe me, that's not what I aim to do with the NSL reference but still, it kind of feels like I'm relying on a crutch by beating on a dead horse that everyone else has already gotten their chance to give their two cents on with their respective fanfictions. Hopefully, what I've done is a bit more unique than what you've probably seen elsewhere but…eh, I was hoping that I wouldn't "follow the leader" by injecting NSL into one of my stories. :/

* * *

Lincoln Loud couldn't deny it any longer. After forty minutes, it was as good as fact: this movie was absolute tripe.

While he wasn't expecting Oscar-worthy acting, none of the actors seemed interested in playing off the hammy, action-packed tropes that the "Eliminator" series was known for. Not only that, the CGI effects weren't even that well blended in, making the action scenes impossible for him to immerse himself within the story by suspending his disbelief. And as if to make matters worse, the plot was bare-bones, looking to inserting "witty quips" and pandering to nostalgia rather than be good on its own merits.

Finally, after a commercial break mercifully interrupted the awful movie, Lincoln looked to Lynn for the first time since it began. He hadn't gauged her reaction, not wanting to confront the possibility of her enjoying herself and ruining things for her by complaining.

But judging her own vacant, sullen expression, she was just as bored as he was. Before he could get her attention, she turned around.

"Lincoln?"

"Hmm?"

She jabbed her thumb towards the TV. "Is it just me or does this movie… y'know, kinda suck?"

"'Kinda?'" Lincoln asked. "That's putting it rather mildly."

"Yeah, I guess."

Lincoln reached for the remote, looking to put the movie on mute while he sought to talk with Lynn about how horrible it had been so far. Even though they couldn't get enjoyment out of the movie itself didn't mean that they couldn't have a good time ripping it to shreds. As soon as he muted the TV, Lynn's frustrated yell snapped his attention back to her.

"Aw, man!"

"What's wrong?" Lincoln asked.

Lynn rubbed her temples with her hands.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Besides the fact that we wasted our time watching a boring action flick _and_ that we missed out on awesome Korean food for nothing?" Lincoln questioned sulkily

"Worse!" Lynn exclaimed, arms outstretched. "We still have to do extra chores all week long!"

Oh. Right. That _was_ a bummer. Even though he didn't mind sharing the workload with Lynn, even at the cost of his free time, he at least wanted to get a good movie experience out of it.

"Dang it," Lincoln grumbled, snapping his fingers. "Just our luck, huh?"

Despite everything, he chuckled. Oh well. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. At least he'd get to be with Lynn.

Lynn, the sister who seemed to be the most eager to interact with him out all ten of his siblings.

Lynn, the sister whose talent for sports was awe-inspiring.

Lynn, the sister who always wanted to include him in her life in an odd, but mostly inviting way.

Lynn, the sister who looked down in the dumps and miserable right now.

"Lynn?"

He scooted closer until their shoulders touched. Lincoln could see her eyes weaving across the floor in patterned circles as she sat silently, entranced in a gloomy haze that would put Lucy to shame.

He shook her shoulders lightly. "Lynn, what's wrong with you?"

Lynn perked up. "Huh?", she muttered dazedly before gazing at Lincoln with unfocused eyes.

"I asked if something was wrong with you. You weren't saying anything and staring off into space. Everything okay?"

Lynn clamped her lips together and shrunk away. Lincoln pegged her distress as a matter of pride, not wanting to divulge a weakness that was clearly bothering her and eating her up on the inside. He noted the sickly, clammy tint faintly ghosting on her skin.

"Wait, you're not sick, are you?" he asked in a slight panic.

That got Lynn to deny instantly as she shook her head, her ponytail swishing about.

"Well, no it's just…"

She pursed her lips in a sorrowful, thin line and she once again, found the floor to be comfortably engaging as she stared at it.

"I try not to think about luck anymore."

Lincoln recoiled, both in surprise and in understanding.

Luck. Ever the superstitious one, Lynn was a believer in rituals and practices that seemed strange to most but appreciated by a girl who thought that them to be, next to her own abilities, absolutely vital for victory.

Luck. The force that at one time, Lynn had believed him to harbor the negative aspect of and banned him from her baseball games to ward off any potential for disaster. Eventually, led by her selfishness and paranoia, Lynn, his other sisters, and even his own parents effectively banished him from the house and later, sold his possessions away.

Luck. The thing that after those events were reconciled, Lynn swore to abandon for the rest of her days, lest they fabricate darker days that even her brother, or any of her loved ones, couldn't forgive her for taking her dedication out of control.

It had been two months since his exile and while the "normalcy" of the Loud house wasn't restored overnight, Lincoln assumed that by now, everyone had gotten over those events, each of them learning from their mistakes and building a stronger connection as a result.

Apparently, Lynn didn't believe that to be so.

"Lynn, I already told you I got over it. You don't have to feel guilty anymore. What's done is done," Lincoln said truthfully.

Lynn swiftly craned her neck up and flashed him a dumbstruck look.

"Easy for you to say," she spat, brewing in loathing. "You've never done anything that bad before."

He sighed. "Lynn, come on. I told you that-"

He was cut off when Lynn suddenly grabbed him in a hug. He didn't move, not wanting to deter Lynn from…whatever it was she was doing. Lynn wasn't one to hug, at least not unless it was a preamble to some kind of wrestling move.

But the sniffles echoing in his ear told him that she wasn't in a mischievous mood; mournful was more like it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

The words were simple and an expression that he had long since accepted from her the first time she told him as much.

"I know," he replied and started stroking her back.

She pulled back to look at him and Lincoln was anxious at her reddened eyes as they bore into him.

"Yeah, well, I want you to know it again, okay?" she said defensively. "Is that so wrong?"

He smiled. Ever the brazen one, huh, Lynn?

"No. No, it's not," he said and wiped a stray tear away from her face. "But do us both a favor and stop beating yourself over the head about it, okay? I got all my stuff back but more importantly, I got my family back. That's all that matters now."

She grinded her palms against her eyes and sniffled before casting a regretful look his way.

"I still think you're just putting up with me because you feel like you have to."

"Sure, Lynn, I decided to spend the entire night here with you and sacrifice my free time for a whole week because I "have to put up with you"," Lincoln said sarcastically. "Far cry from someone who hates your guts, don't you think?"

"Maybe but still…"

She paused to collect herself.

"I still don't get how it got handled so…so…easily. I mean, we locked you out and sold your stuff. And it was kinda my fault it happened."

"Nonsense," Lincoln grunted. "You didn't make me go with the bad luck façade, did you?"

"No, but I got the ball rolling first."

Lincoln shook his head, his fingers twitching from their inerrant need to facepalm. He didn't get how she couldn't understand that whether she started decrying his supposed bad luck or not, he ultimately decided to go along with it. It was _his_ idea, _his_ scheme, _his_ ploy that blew up in his face. He had to bare that responsibility himself, much like Lynn had to bare her own in the ordeal.

But rather than debate about blame, Lincoln wanted an unanswered part of her woes decrypted.

"Okay but you still haven't gotten around to explaining what you meant by not getting how everything got handled so easily. What's that all about?"

Instead of looking sad, a familiar tone of anger came into play and Lincoln slid back instinctively, knowing that an angry Lynn wasn't someone to tick off.

"It feels wrong that you had to take all of our crap, mine especially, and yet you came around to loving us again so quickly."

Even with his timid stance, Lincoln knew that Lynn deserved to know everything he felt and deserved to find some peace with herself.

"That's where you're wrong, Lynn," Lincoln said plainly. "I never came around to loving you again. That implies that I _stopped_ loving you in the first place."

She growled irritably. "But why? Why couldn't you just…just…"

She threw her hands up and clamped them over her knees as yet again, her gaze fell on the ground.

"Get mad! Get angry! Do… _something_ other than just take it!"

Against his better judgment, Lincoln slid closer and pulled her in a sideways hug.

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Because I deserved way worse than nothing, that's why!"

Lincoln sat silently. He wouldn't deny Lynn getting everything off her chest, even if he was sure she'd flog herself and batter her own self-worth that would make his heart ache.

"I would've been fine with you yelling at me or never wanting to talk to me again or…or even hating me for the rest of your life. At least I wouldn't have to feel guilty about getting off scot-free."

Doing something that Lynn probably wasn't expecting, or probably wanting, Lincoln leaned in and pecked her on the cheek, coaxing her look up at him in disbelief.

"And this is why I could never bring myself to hate you or any of you guys, for that matter," he told her with the biggest grin he could muster. "Would you still feel this badly about ancient history if you didn't feel remorse about what you did? How could I hate that?"

Seeing Lynn in a state of deep contemplation, he continue.

"You know what hurt me the most about all of that? Despite the great life I've had in this house, growing up with all of you, it looked like you didn't love me at all when you were pushing me away. All those memories that we had playing together, laughing together…it looked like they didn't mean anything to any of you anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that what you didn't wasn't really hurtful or anything but what I finally got was that you didn't act that way out of hate. You were just afraid of what I supposedly was. All of you were. It doesn't excuse anything but I least I came around to knowing that you didn't hate me."

Though by now, she looked like she was ready to speak, there was one last thing that Lincoln felt was vital in addressing.

"And you're wrong about something else, too, Lynn. You _didn't_ get away scot-free." He cut her off before she could say otherwise. "I'm serious. You didn't. You'll still have to live with the guilt and something tells me, you might not get over it for a long time. That's pretty heavy, if you ask me."

Lynn exhaled through her nose harshly and lightly tapped the side of her head.

"Well, when you put it that way, it all makes sense in my head," she said and her finger fell across the left side of her chest, "but not here."

"And that's what I meant by the guilt, Lynn," Lincoln said. "You know I'm right but it's hard for you to convince yourself deep down. Isn't that right?"

Lynn nodded, though her motions indicated that she did so reluctantly.

"Yeah. That's why I've been trying so hard to forget about it and in a way, our movie night was supposed to help me do that; make things the way they were between us before I caused you so much trouble."

In a split second of enlightened clarity, a proposition came to Lincoln.

"So why don't we do that right now?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Lynn questioned, befuddled.

Lincoln stood up, eagerness coiled in every fiber of his being.

"Make things the way they were. You always drag me into a game or an activity and nine times out of ten, I always have a blast."

Picking up the remote, he shut the TV off and said, "Forget about the dumb movie. How about you and I just horseplay until our family comes back home?"

And much to Lincoln's delight, Lynn slowly rose to her feet, a grin perked in the corner of her mouth.

"I think I can manage that," she said shyly.

Her brother's smile only got wider.

"Glad to hear it, sis."

But just as Lincoln was ready to partake in another round of Lynn-Lincoln hijinks, a loud grumbling noise reverberated through the room. Then, a look of grimace came over Lynn as she doubled over and groaned.

"Bathroom! Bathroom!" she yelped alarmingly and bolted up the stairs as fast as her raging insides could let her manage.

The origin of her emergency registered in Lincoln's mind and he couldn't help but laugh wildly.

"I warned you about those cramps!" he called out to her in-between laughs.

* * *

After thirty minutes and half a roll of toilet paper, Lynn emerged from the bathroom, with both a cleaner digestive tract and a cleaner conscience. Oddly enough, the bathroom had always been somewhat of a sanctuary to the jock. With nothing to do but let the course of nature transpire, she could peacefully mull over the creative machinations her brain would create, often concerning what new practical but breathtakingly awesome strategies she could employ in her various sports games.

But in this situation, that half hour was mostly dedicated to immersing herself in her brother's words, words that offered her assurance that no, he didn't hate her after all. Like a warm, soothing shower, that would unclench her tight muscles and warm her aching joints after an entire afternoon of basketball practice, she was granted consolation, an insistence that the price of her penance was a burden that begged no further payment.

She was loved because he knew that she still loved him. It wasn't out of obligation; he'd be too smart to be thrown under the bus for the sake of peace that she didn't deserve. He…he _loved_ her. At first, the thought of it rendered her more nauseous than a digestive maelstrom of spicy chili-flavored popcorn and root beer had done.

But then again, she'd be the biggest fool in the world to deny her brother's genuine pardon, especially since she'd be essentially spitting in his face for expressing his true self, an act of defiance she could never hope to perpetrate. In the end, there was only acceptance from Lynn; of both the responsibility of treating her brother with more respect and that her wonderful, dorky, generous brother was offering her the chance to rebuild what time had yet to restore on its own. It wouldn't completely ease the throngs of regret and shame that battered her repeatedly over her horrid sin but at least it was a start.

And maybe, just maybe, if there was to a light at the end of the maddening, winding dark tunnel, Lincoln's proposal of restoring their bond, through their usual brand of tomfoolery, would be the perfect start to finding her way to the finish line.

And as far as she was concerned, Lynn had a great way of kickstarting their fun.

* * *

Sliding down the bannister in a flash, Lynn caught her brother, who was reclining on the couch without a care, by surprise when she skidded to a halt right in front of her. It made him jump a bit and squeak and despite her attempts at restraint, Lynn couldn't help but let out a little laugh, even while he was glaring at him.

Lincoln recomposed himself after a moment and asked, "So, what's your plan?"

Lynn broke away from him to the floor and smiled when she found the bowl of their popcorn, a few pieces remaining in the dish. She picked it up and held it to her chest.

"I've got a ton of ideas but we'll be trying something new to start us off." Without looking away from him, she reached into the bowl, grabbed a popcorn piece, flicked it into the air with her thumb, and caught it in her mouth before eating it. "Popcorn football."

Lincoln scratched the side of his head with his finger. "Popcorn…football?"

"Uh-huh," Lynn confirmed and silently told him to scooch over towards the far end of the couch with a few waves of her hand.

Once he did, she set the bowl right in the middle of the couch and sat on the opposite side.

"We take these popcorn pieces and we try to flick them in the other person's mouth," Lynn explained. "Y'know, like a placekicker does when he tries to score extra points by kicking the ball between the goal posts."

She watched as Lincoln's face reflected a slight tone of confusion and she knew exactly why. This wasn't her style, sitting in place without moving around. It wasn't normal. It wasn't tradition. Quite frankly, it wasn't _them_.

But Lynn was going to be more considerate of her little brother from now on and that meant she'd do her best to ensure that their shenanigans would be fun for the both of them. It was no secret that Lincoln wasn't the most active, fit boy in the world and pitting his admittedly frail physicality against hers wasn't close to being fair, even if she always intended to toughen him up in the process.

And when Lincoln grinned, Lynn hoped that he had realized what she was doing.

"So, what're we playing to?" he asked.

She responded by holding up five fingers.

"We'll play to five. We'll also be taking turns with each "kick" we make, even if one of us makes a goal," Lynn said before a cocky smirk emerged. "I mean, I gotta you a chance, don't I?"

Lincoln followed suit and Lynn internally beamed at the embers of a competitive spirit that kindled in his eyes, no chance of surrender present at all.

"Sure, Lynn. Of course," Lincoln replied.

"You can start," Lynn offered and pointed at the bowl.

Nodding, Lincoln swiped up a popcorn piece and waited for Lynn to open her mouth. Once he did, he narrowed his eyes in concentration as his "kicking" fingers gingerly hovered behind the "ball". Finally, he swiftly flicked the popcorn piece, it whizzing through the air before it finally approached Lynn…

…and bopped her on the nose and slipped down her shirt.

Lynn chuckled and scratched the tip of her nose before flashing a cheeky grin. "Lincoln, you're supposed to be trying to get it in my mouth, not my nose."

Lincoln just frowned a little and opened his own mouth before Lynn could say, "My turn."

Once she procured her own salty puff, that was conveniently nestled underneath her shirt, she took aim and flicked with hopeful precision.

Lynn's self-assured smile crumbled into an agape shape when the popped corn, which was spot on in its trajectory, ricocheted off of an overlooked obstacle; his overbite.

"Ha! Not so easy, is it?" Lincoln taunted.

"No fair!" Lynn pouted with only slight irritation. "Your teeth got in my way!"

"Too late to back down now," Lincoln retorted. "Besides, I thought you wanted to give me a chance. That fact that you're dealing with a handicap should count towards that, right?"

As quickly as it came, her incited flare died. The expression of engaging amusement and playful mischief was exactly what Lynn wanted from him and she couldn't ruin that by making a fuss because of her overachieving, competitive streak.

Besides, she couldn't kick his butt without a clear head.

"Fine by me," Lynn said and waited for Lincoln to grab his popcorn piece for Round 2.

* * *

It wasn't anything that resembled an environment of a dazzling sports spectacle, witnessed by a jam-packed stadium of screaming, adoring fans but Lynn didn't care and by the looks of things, Lincoln didn't, either.

The inaugural "Popcorn Football" game had gone off without a hitch. After ten minutes of laughter, banter, and scoring, the score was tied by four. When Lynn snagged her popcorn kernel, hoping to end this game with one final kick, she finally took notice the popcorn-littered carpet and couch, realizing that they were definitely going to have to clean this up after they were finished.

"And now, for the game point," Lynn declared with flair.

"Isn't that usually a tennis thing?" Lincoln asked cheekily.

"It's also a popcorn football thing," Lynn countered. "Now, be a good little brother and open wide."

With the "goal posts" set up, Lynn steadily positioned her popcorn kernel between her fingers and without laboring herself with prolonged seconds of meditation, she propelled the kernel forward with a swift, jerk of the thumb and watched, with bated breath…

As it flew dead center into Lincoln's mouth, securing the win and winning the game.

She couldn't help herself from leaping off the couch, standing proudly with her chest puffed and her fists held high as she rallied for the imaginary audience to join in on her victory.

"Yes! And Lynn Loud wins it all! The first-ever Popcorn Hockey Heisman Trophy is all hers!" To complete the showboating, she cupped her hands around her mouth and replicated the faint roaring of a lively crowd. "And the crowd goes wild! She's a shoe-in for first draft pick for the...the…"

A curious sound caught her ears. She turned around and saw Lincoln, flailing on the couch as he clutched his hands around his throat, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, and his eyes bugging out of his skull.

What initially got her to take notice was the choking noise frantically emitting from his throat.

"Lincoln?"

A swell of concern lathered over her nerves before it quickly evaporated into the air. She sniggered, cocking an eyebrow up as she rested her hands on her hips.

It'd be a convincing display if it were anyone else but of course, Lynn was no fool. They had been catching popcorn kernels in their mouths without a problem. Now, she was supposed to buy into the act that her brother was choking? _Dying?_ Pssh, as if.

Any minute now, he'd drop the act, shout out, "Gotcha!", and they'd share a laugh.

"Oh, haha. _Very_ funny, Lincoln," Lynn said, rolling her eyes saucily.

Waiting for Lincoln to refrain from his "choking fit", Lynn stood idly by as Lincoln continued to "choke". She had to admit, he was really committed to fooling her. Why, if she didn't know any better, she'd say that he actually couldn't breathe.

But that was preposterous. This was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a night to remember, one that neither of them would forget. There was no way that Lincoln could be…hold on…why was his skin turning blue?

And…and why were his eyes rolling upwards?!

A-and why was…why was…why was his chest…? I-it wasn't rising.

…

…

…

Oh, God.

"Lincoln?!"

A knot tightened in her chest, restraining her breathing and alighting every neuron in her being into full panic, Lynn rushed over to her brother's side, looking on in horror as his once anxious limbs jitterred in involuntary spasms. Even with the damning evidence right in front of her, it wasn't until her eyes caught with his dimming, pleading ones that she couldn't escape from the horrible reality set before her.

Lincoln was dying. And it was all her fault.

" _ **LINCOLN!"**_

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm really looking forward to the kind of reviews this chapter will get. I'm not expecting the most flattering sentiments, given how I handled the NSL content, but I'm still eager and curious, all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This is either going to be the second-to-last chapter or the middle chapter. I'm not quite sure which decision to go towards just yet but in any case, this is Chapter 3, all the same. Hope you like it.

* * *

Both brother and sister were of one accord in body and mind.

Body; limbs were seized and frozen from the gravity of the moment, allowing only chattering compulsions as they felt the breath of the reaper chill the air and turn their blood into arctic water.

Mind; synapses were fiery hot, chugging molten panic through their bodies as dread and helplessness crushed their lungs under each passing second. The sensation didn't ebb the chill of anxiety bred from a sheer feeling of weakness.

There was one stark difference, however; at least _Lynn_ was capable of breath. She was just rendered to small, spastic puffs as her eyes singed from the fresh tears that refused to cease. How could they do otherwise when they were gazing upon the dying…choking...paling…oh God, Lincoln was dying.

Lincoln. Her brother. _Dying_.

By the grace of the Almighty, a miracle descends upon the Loud House and Lynn remembers where she is, _who_ she is; a person of action that did what was necessary because she knew that she _could_. Lincoln can't afford for her to forget that now, even as his eyes paled and his mouth drooped limpidly, indicating that his time on Earth was nearly up.

She rises to her feet hastily, nearly stumbling from the heavy, lead-filled sensations of tight, cramped muscles that are nearly as choked up as those in her straining throat.

"Just…uh j-just hold on, Lincoln! I got this!"

The promise is offered in a hoarse, whispered haste, almost instinctively. She has a game plan but it's created from the spur of the moment. The crux of her idea isn't one of her vast talents but she's seen it enough times for her to believe in its credence. Besides, slim pickings were all she had.

She slips her arms around Lincoln's midsection. He flails with waning vigor in response, panicked by the intrusion that doesn't offer him immediate relief. Lynn gasps when her brother's hollow eyes bore into hers; begging her to call off whatever she's doing. She clamps her eyes shut and forces her hyperventilating breath through her nose to try and keep the nausea from making her pass out.

It only _barely_ works. She'll never forget those eyes.

Wobbly legs plant themselves on the carpet as Lynn ragdolls her flaccid brother onto his feet, standing behind him as her arms lock around his abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she compresses his muscles in a short, powerful thrust through her fist.

Panic splinters through her chest when she fails. She tries again, making out a soft mewl from Lincoln as his boneless limbs swing in conjunction with her thrust. A frustrated yell vibrates and tears through her throat as she tries yet again.

And is met with the same result.

"No."

Her red-stained cheeks clench and strain from her agitated snarl and her heels dig into the floor. She tightens her biceps and lets out a guttural roar, rapidly increasing her pace. She can feel his bones fold inward and she she's met with pained, wispy squeaks from Lincoln, increasing her jackrabbiting pulse with each expelled breath his aching body needs.

She gets to twenty-four thrusts until her ears catch a strained, choked syllable and her world crumbles. " _…y...nn._ "

He droops completely, head and shoulders sagging forward. A fresh crop of tears spills on his neck from behind. The source? From a girl who's frightened out of her wits and can't fathom what she sees.

Her head rings, submerging under the pressure of the vice-like grip around her chest. All of her restraint halts and melts away, rendering her a blubbering, desperate mess.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, noooooooooo!"

Her stomach swished and churned when he didn't reply. _Couldn't_ reply.

" _ **LINCOLN!"**_

The arms around his waist draw his lax body forward enough for her to bury her face in the crook of her neck. She winces at the clammy, sticky touch and is otherwise, preoccupied with a last-ditch effort.

" _ **HEEEEEEELLLLLP!"**_

When all else fails, her alarm-marinated brain fires on all cylinders and she leans her head back and cries out to the heavens, _**"GOD, SOMEONE HELP HIIIIIIIIIIM!"**_

It proves as futile as the last. No help comes. Lynn's breath quickens in wheezy spams, her arms and legs shake, her misty, cloudy eyes prick with tears, and her speech is struck down to garbled pleading, begging for Lincoln to hang on, to live, to see another day where she can be the big sister that she always should've been to him.

Her weak knees give out and she reflexively cocoons Lincoln tightly in her arms as she falls backwards. Her head slams into the carpet, rattling her insides. She opens her mouth to cry out in pain but nothing rushes out but a tingling croak. The dull throb subsides under another stream of panic when she quickly bobs her head upwards and sees Lincoln's chest stilled and unmoving, his eyes closed, and his uncurled fingers laxly splayed. She slides out from underneath him, careful to cradle his head in her shaky arms in the process. Trembling fingers cup around his face and once again, Lynn finds herself unable to do anything but stay rooted in place, her eyes seeing but her mind not believing out of sheer stubbornness rather than inability.

Another pang of sharp ache drills into her skull from the back and she yowls sharply enough to wake the dead…

The dead. ' _Oh God, no. Not him. Not my…'_

She looks down, hissing as the motion throbs and burns. Her entire body quivers and her teeth clench when Lincoln's lifeless, pale form mocks her, taunts her for her failure. Her throat, parched and dry from screaming, harbors more pleading, more begging for the nightmare to end and for Lincoln to wake up.

But nothing of the kind emits. A gasp, instead, replies to an observation that she can feel under the finger that's draped under his nose.

Exhaled breath. It's shallow enough to pull her towards the impasse between her mind playing hopeful tricks on her and the reality that the window of opportunity was still open, albeit to a meager fracture.

She settles on the possibility that Lincoln Loud wasn't down for the count just yet, not if she had anything to say about it.

She recoils from the pain of another sharp, needling sting through her cranium and it spurs her to consider the only rational course of action; calling 9-1-1.

Lynn grunts as she makes a mad dash towards the stairs, the soles of her cleats digging noisily through the brush of the tangling, carpet hairs. The cellphone in her room is all she has…or so she thinks. The oft-forgotten home phone is tragically abandoned in her panic-stricken quest.

' _Just gotta get to my phone,'_ she tells herself, pain and all, as she pounds up the steps faster than parental supervision would normally allow.

And then a costly miscalculation occurs halfway up.

The tip of her outstretched cleat bashes into the step behind her in her blind, mad rush. She wails as she falls forward, unable to react in time before the left side of her head bashes into the splintered edge of another step, the spindly, rough pricks grazing and slashing into her flesh and the solid wood colliding with the already tortured structure of her skull.

She's stunned for just a split second until a white-hot dagger of pain sears seamlessly through her brain, compounding the drumming, aching sensations that the back of her head already houses.

Lynn screams in agony, curdling both the blood in her own body and the thin stream of blood that seeps out the gash, trickles down the side of her head, and tinges her tongue with a musty, coppery taste as it oozes into her outstretched mouth.

It hurts to pant and cry but she does so anyway. It's the only thing keeping unconsciousness from claiming her and in turn, cutting off the only lifeline that Lincoln has.

When her legs don't wish to cooperate in the heat of the moment, the clamping exhaustion of her frantic run making her momentarily grounded, she opts to crawl up the stairs on her belly. Her ribs strum uncomfortably across the stair ridges in her quick ascent but she pays no heed to the pain. Lincoln would endure far worse for her. She _knows_ he would.

Lynn finally reaches the top and tight legs and all, darts towards her room, ignoring her buckling knees and woozy head. She finally makes it in the span of four seconds (around four seconds too slow, in her opinion) and dives towards the mountain of used gym clothes that encompass her bed. Upon landing, she blindly sifts through T-shirts, shorts, jockstraps…

Until, at long last, her palm slaps against the cool screen of her phone. She yanks it out and twitchy fingers hurriedly turn the phone on, dial 9-1-1-, and turn on speaker mode.

She doesn't have the time nor patience to strip herself of the unbridled hysteria, that harrows through her bones, before a motherly, middle-aged tone addresses her. _"Woodland County 911, what is the address of your emerge-"_

"Brother! Ch-choking! Get down here, please!"

Lynn grips the phone tighter for purchase and hisses when a stray drop of blood bleaches her open, puffy eye.

" _I need your address."_

"1216 Franklin Avenue!" She's equal-parts feverish and royally pissed off that this dispatcher regards her brother with such callous indifference.

" _We're sending an ambulance right n-"_

"Hurry up!" Now that they're on the clock, every second feels like an hour. "I-I don't think he's breathing!"

" _What's your name?"_

Lynn splutters. "Wh…what?!"

" _What's your name?"_

If looks could kill, even over the phone, Lynn would've given this woman a piece of her bat, the blunt end shoved right up her ass. _'What is wrong with her?!'_

"Lynn! Why does it matter?! Just…j-just…"

She cuts herself off. She wastes no time in standing around in her room any further when Lincoln's stiff, cold semi-corpse burrows in her mind.

" _Okay, Lynn?"_

Lynn regards the question with contemptuous silence as she races down the stairs, careful not to trip up this time around.

" _Lynn?"_

The almost taunting query slithers through her pounding eardrums and coaxes her to finally bite back once she reaches the bottom.

"What?!"

" _Where's your brother?"_

She pivots her head over to her right and she's stricken with newfound dread, bubbling and fit to burst from her lungs. Either her eyes were teasing her with future premonitions or he was paler than she remembered.

"He's right in front of me!" She can't bother with precise proximity.

" _Is he on his back? What does his face look like? Is his chest rising and falling?"_

Anger clashes with her distress but the inane nature of her questions prodded her to settle on belligerence. She clenches her teeth as she growls, pained by her head trauma and the lack of support that she's receiving.

"Is this a joke?! My brother is _dying_! What's any of that suppose to-"

The strength in her muscles recedes and she falls on her knees, too shell-shocked to allow the biting burn of the abrasive carpet surface to break her out of her prostration.

" _My brother is dying!"_

The words ring like a death knell about to sound off. The cold trace of death nips the base of her spine and all she can think of is Lincoln.

Lincoln. Surrounded by family as they mourned their dead.

Lincoln. Lowered into a grave within the entombment of a casket.

Lincoln. A memory of better days.

His sweet, dorky, cheery, adorable smile flashes before Lynn and she instinctively returns to the present through another gaze at Lincoln's torpid body.

It dawns on her, the simple truth; Lincoln was departing from his short-lived life and she was powerless to do anything about it.

"Oh my God, no! Lincoln!"

The voice of the dispatcher calmly calls out to her before she can crawl over to him and cradle him.

" _Lynn."_

Though the speaker mode necessitates no demand of having the phone close to her face, Lynn does so anyways as she draws the phone closer to her mouth.

"Where's that stupid ambulance already?!"

Another agonizing second ticks by before she's answered.

" _Lynn, I need you to listen to me."_

Unlike before, her smooth voice mollifies her a bit, enough to consider this woman's counsel.

The back of her hand wipes away her tears, as well as a thin film of blood before she sniffles, "O-okay."

" _We're going to do CPR. Do you know how?"_

She shakes her head and regrets it when pangs of scything pain slash through her skull.

"No," she forces through a choked sob and grips her head with her free hand as wooziness tugs at her senses.

" _Okay, now follow my instructions carefully. Go to your brother."_

She obeys, standing up and staggering towards him. She kneels when she's right in front of him and winces as his slightly pale complexion comes into full view.

"Yeah?"

" _Make sure nothing's under his head or near his chest. If there is, take it off. That goes for clothing, too."_

She slaps the phone down and hurriedly tugs at the collar of his shirt. She settles on tearing the shirt down the middle, disregarding the buttons as they pop and fly off in the distance. Her shaky hands grip his shoulders.

"Now what?"

" _How old is he?"_

She holds her tongue from retorting with impatient sarcasm at the seemingly invaluable question, though she grumbles all the same. "Eleven."

" _Okay. Put a heel of your hand on the center of his chest…"_

Lynn does as she's told but nearly pulls away once her flesh touches his chilled skin.

"… _place the other hand on top of that one…"_

Her other hand laces its fingers with the first one, stacking limbs precisely where the dispatcher wants. Or so Lynn hoped.

"… _lock your arms straight, and do about a hundred compressions every minute."_

Doing so forces her sore knees to scrape gingerly against the floor as she gets in position but she bites down a yelp.

"Got it."

Before she can commence, the dispatcher is sure to add, " _Make sure the compressions are at least two inches and let the chest rise before you do the next one."_

Nodding, Lynn takes matters into her own hands, thrusting downward and grunting with each drive of her heel against his sternum.

' _Four…five…six…'_

The fast-paced, steady rhythm and mental countdown is like a salve on her burned, overworked nerves. With her mind occupied on something other than panicking and flailing about, she's assured, calmed.

But there's more to it than that.

' _Twenty-one…twenty-two…twenty-three…'_

There was hope and this was it. How could there be anything _but_ hope if she wasn't told to cut her losses right out of the gate? It's not the most promising of thoughts, given that Lincoln has still failed to resuscitate, but at least it's something to cling onto.

' _Thirty-six…thirty-seven…thirty-eight…'_

Her shoulders and hands are cramping and her thrusts begin to wane. Lynn still presses on with everything that her wrecked, drained body will allow, even as her head's aching pain has barely subsided.

Droplets of blood dribble out of her gash and plop onto Lincoln's chest, coloring an otherwise pale, freckle-splotched canvas.

' _Fifty-two…fifty-three…fifty-fou-'_

Lynn freezes, eyes widened, when her heel sinks lower, _far_ lower than any of her previous thrusts permitted. That only caused her to stop in her tracks.

The sickening crunching that pierces her ears, however, causes her to hyperventilate, her stomach to ache and clench, and for her to scooch back in a guilty reflex.

" _Lynn?"_

The question is carried with a tinge of concern, a trace of humanity finally emoting. Lynn can't appreciate it, though, as her senses are belabored with the gravity of her mistake.

" _Lynn, what happen-"_

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh- _no_!"

" _Lynn, what's going on?"_

Lynn is brought back to her whereabouts when she quivers and wheezes with dry sobbing, each cry enticing the hammering pain in her skull to surmount each wave of torture that passes.

She turns her head to the phone and snaps panickily, "I think I broke something!"

" _That's okay. Keep going. Help is almost there."_

"But I…I…"

Her mind knows what it wants; to save Lincoln in any way that she can. Her body, however, can't bother to be spurred to action when she needs it the most.

She's frigid from the memory, the palpable shattering of bone, spurs jutting through the skin and grinding into her flesh.

The sickly popping in her ears and ricocheting around in her head.

The wailing sirens of an ambulance steadily blaring into the night sky as… _'Wait a minute.'_

Lynn's not quick enough to crane her head up towards the living room window before the dispatcher interjects with another calm order.

" _Lynn, help is on the scene. Open the door and let them in."_

She shuts the phone off. Casting one last look at her comatose brother, she runs to the door and flings it open as she stood posted by the doorway. She clenched her eyes shut as the parked ambulance's shining, spinning lights flashed before her, illuminating her and the front of her house with a circus of whirling red and blue hues.

When she hears distant speech, intermingled with the blaring sirens and beeping, she points in the house, shouting, "He's in here! Hurry!"

She clears the way in the nick of time as two paramedics in light blue uniforms rush in, the one in the back wheeling in a gurney and a hefty duffel bag of medical supplies. While that one, a stocky dark-skinned man, unzips it and pulls out an AED. He hands it off to his partner, a tall man of similar complexion.

"Stay back," he says and attaches two pads from the defibrillator onto Lincoln's chest before flipping the device on.

Lynn pays no mind to the machine as it spouts off its analysis. She's far too focused on looking over that man's shoulders and seeing her little brother pull through.

No, not hopefully. _Indefinitely_. Despite her failure, now he was in the hands of professionals.

"No need for shock," the paramedic says, a small smile etched on his face.

Lynn sighs in relief, finding comfort in the statement coming out of the mouth of a professional. She's only allowed a few seconds to watch him begin his own round of chest compressions before she's blocked off by the other one.

"Lemme take care of that scar for you."

Lynn huffs impatiently but otherwise, doesn't stop him as he strips a sterile pad onto the semi-clotted wound, rolls a few strips of gauze tape around her forehead, and ties it in place with a knot at the back.

"Bernie, gimme a hand with him," Lynn hears the other paramedic say.

Lynn waits with bated breath as Bernie walks up to his partner, once again, preventing her from seeing whatever it was they were doing with Lincoln.

But when Bernie finally breaks away, in favor of going back to his duffel bag, she's met with a sight that's almost too good to be true, given everything that she and Lincoln had gone through.

That damned, infernal piece of popcorn that she had carelessly lodged into Lincoln's throat…it was…it was by his side. _'D-does that mean…?'_

Bernie returned to scene with an oxygen mask, slipping it on Lincoln's face as his partner unstrapped the AED pads from his chest.

Lynn was besides herself. The pain, misery, and panic she had endured for the past five minutes had deadened her, rendering her unable to express pure joy with laughs or smiles.

But she could at least find solace in the fact that despite herself, despite her incompetence…

Lincoln was going to live.

* * *

Lynn watches from the sidewalk as the paramedics load Lincoln into the back of the ambulance. She had taken the measure of contacting her family and letting them know what was happening with Lincoln. They would be coming to pick her up as soon as they could, instead of seeing her at the hospital with Lincoln since she was denied permission to ride in the ambulance with him; some phooey about ambulance policy or whatever.

At first, she was irritated and nearly let both men have it for getting in the way of her seeing her own brother. But before she could even utter a word of protest, the hypocrisy of her indignation caught up to her and silenced any rebellious outbursts. She was going to use the "He's my brother card!". After everything that she had done to him, she was going to act like she had the right to act like she had always looked out for him, cared for him, protected him.

She was Lynn, the sister who often messed with him with surprise wrestling holds.

She was Lynn, the sister who put him down for his comic books.

She was Lynn, the sister who often forced her interests and hobbies on him just so they could bond, even when he didn't want it.

She was Lynn, the sister who blamed him for losing a baseball game instead of herself.

She was Lynn, the sister who almost _killed_ her own brother and failed trying to save him.

What right did she have to act indignant, as if her family ties bequeathed her special treatment?

She was only momentarily snapped out of her mulling when the slam of the ambulance's doors caught her ears and coax her to look up. Sure enough, the ambulance began slowly drifting away, sirens howling into the night as the cacophony of sounds carried away into the distance.

' _I'm sorry, Lincoln.'_

With nothing left to do but wait for her family, Lynn sat onto the edge of the sidewalk, hands holding her head as that chilling nightmare replayed over in her mind, starting from when she carelessly flicked the popcorn kernel in Lincoln's mouth and choked him.

She began to weep when she couldn't jump in and stop herself.

' _I'm so sorry.'_

* * *

 **A/N:** For those of you who don't know, the fictional town of Royal Woods is based off Royal Oak, MI. Since it's located on Oakland County, I used that name, combined it with "Royal Woods", and came up with "Woodland County". I just hope that there isn't already a fictional county that Royal Woods resides in because I'm already kind of attached to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** After some careful consideration, I decided that I'm going to have the very next chapter be the final one.

However, things can change on a dime. All the same, I'm pretty sure this will be the penultimate chapter. Don't hold me to that, though.

* * *

Lynn cried until tears no longer came out. Her head remained down the entire time, a reflex out of the want to not show the world her true face. She knew that no one would blame her for weeping, feeling devastated and crushed, but then again, her _true_ face was the face of a hapless, brother-killing monster and that was an identity that she wished that she didn't have to bear for the rest of her life.

Lynn swallowed, the motion causing tired, strained muscles in her throat to swell and ache. She had no idea how a good night's sleep would ever be possible.

She didn't know how long it had been since the ambulance drove away, her loud sobbing and melancholic mulling distracting her from the time that had passed. All she knew was, with the evening spring air warmly drifting across her body, and the low hum of chirping crickets serenading her with their peaceful melody, she was at ease. She couldn't fool herself, however; it wasn't the best of resolutions as she wasn't _content_ but she was no longer _destroyed_.

At least, for the moment. She knew that if she looked down at her jersey, she'd see blood stains dried in the fabric and she'd be acquainted with the burning of unshed tears once more as flashes of the most heart-wrenching hour of her life returned from the depths of Hell to torment her.

She knew that if she thought about Lincoln's unmoving, colorless body again, she'd double over from the piercing, wasp-like sting that would plunge into her throat and chest before her mournful sobs rendered through the air yet again.

So, she _didn't_ look down and she _didn't_ think of Lincoln for as long as she could. She didn't know how she'd be able to hold up the façade of reservation when she finally saw her brother in the hospital but it's a dilemma that Lynn realized that she couldn't help. Despite everything, she wanted to see Lincoln, to know that he was truly alive and well.

' _1…2…3…4…'_

Well, it worked well enough to calm her down with the CPR so Lynn figured that it'd work well enough beyond the aftermath. Soon enough, her mental focus blended in with the distant sounds of nature around her, submerging her in a tightly sealed box of tranquil inner trappings. The exercise was so engrossing to her that even though the telltale sounds of a spluttering motor, the crunching of gravel beneath tires, and the muffled cacophony of familiar voices sounded off about four feet away from her, she wasn't pulled out of the zone until a cry of distress bombarded her from out the blue.

"Lynn!"

Lynn snapped her head up and looked over to her left. She flinched and scooched back a little, startled by the sudden intrusion of visuals, the most prominent one rushing towards her. There stood Vanzilla, parked in the driveway, and her puffy, red eyes strained through the bleak, dull screen of the windows to see brief traces of her sisters peering through the glass. She wasn't able to focus for long enough to get a clear view as the woman who cried out to her, her mother, was by her side in an instant and wrapped her in a hug. It was warmer than anything Lynn thought she could ever feel but in the end, she couldn't even crack a smile or even give her mother the courtesy of returning it.

Rita held Lynn by her cheeks, the thumb of one hand chipping away the dried trail of blood the smeared across the side of her head and down her neck, letting the grainy particles fall to the ground like a rain of red confetti.

"Oh, Lynn, my poor baby! Look at you!" Rita cried, her voice choked by the weight of cropping tears, and yanked Lynn in for another hug.

Lynn wasn't surprised by the reaction. She deliberately left out the part where she had gotten hurt when she phoned her mother about the incident. Not only did she refuse to let her parents worry about another one of their hurt children, as they hurried back home to pick her up, but she felt that she wasn't deserving of their concern. Besides, they were going to find out anyways.

Lynn was forced to look in her mother's eyes as she drew away again. Lynn almost gaped at the folded crease in her forehead from her slight slanted eyebrows and the thin frown that her lips formed.

"You didn't tell us anything happened to you."

Lynn shrank back at the traces of icy reprimand in her voice. "It's fine. Really, Mom. I'm…" She nearly startled herself from how tired and dead her voice sounded. "I'm fine."

She didn't need a bigger cue than her mother's incredulous face to know she didn't buy that load of crap for one solitary second. Lynn's jaw unclenched in preparation to form words, a flimsy, half-hearted excuse that would hopefully lead her mother's bloodhound senses away from the truth that her guilt disallowed her from exposing. Her mother, however, didn't give her the chance as she held up a hand.

"Come on. Let's go see your brother," Rita said, her tone calmed and measured.

A tiny crack of a real smile broke out on Lynn's face. "Okay."

Lynn couldn't believe her fortune, even after everything that had happened to Lincoln and the fact that he, as far as she was concerned, wasn't dead. The pang of relief she felt stirring in her belly combated the stilled, dulling ache in her head and knees as she stood up and walked to the van in tandem with her mother, who had her secured in a side, one-armed hug. It wouldn't be a long period of reprieve from guilt, between now and the hospital, but at least she'd have a few more minutes to enjoy the familiarity of her normal life, a life where she isn't responsible for nearly killing her own brother and a life where her family didn't hate her because of that.

Even with that reprieve in mind, however, when she stood in front of the passenger side of Vanzilla, her mother slowly opening the door with a _*click*_ , several knots constricted her diaphragm, forcing out expelled bursts of breath from her body. A nosy mother was one thing but the invasive pressure of nine sisters? She _knew_ she wouldn't be able to handle that for long before she broke down in tears, a confession of her sin possibly accompanying such an outburst.

Hell, she was outside and the cacophony of their muffled voices _alone_ turned her bones into squirming jelly.

Knowing she didn't have a choice, Lynn groaned and somberly entered the belly of the beast once the door slid open.

Her ears rang at their concerns and questions yearning for her attention.

Her skin prickled uncomfortably as their limbs reached out to softly touch her all at once.

Her eyes watered as all they could see were her sisters beckoning her, commanding her to pry open her insides for their satisfaction through the words their lips made and the demanding expressions that etched their faces.

She felt the boiler of her repression begin to burst, gears straining to function under a demand for aloofness in the heat of their smoldering gazes. She bit down on her lip to quiet the whimpers and it was an indignity that she only had to take for a few seconds before the driver of the van, her father, turned around in his seat and told his chattering daughters, "Girls, give Lynn some space, please. She's been through a lot tonight."

Instantly, their eyes were open to Lynn's repressed, abused face; not of the crusty blood streak and bandages, no (that was one of the _first_ things they all wanted answers to), but of her downcast eyes, bubbling with tears. They expressed their apologies in shamed whispers and allowed Lynn to look around for a seat of her choosing without a word.

Lynn frowned as she stood in contemplation. Nothing offered to her what she was looking for, a spot of serviceable seclusion. But the only two spots available were either between Lily and Lucy or between Lori and Leni. God, how she wanted a window seat. Staring out towards the ink of night, blotted by the sprinkling of the glowing stars, sounded heavenly therapeutic right about now. Well, maybe not therapeutic but _distracting_ was a good distant second.

"You okay, dude?"

She turned to Luna and nodded. She almost sighed when she didn't feel immense, grinding pain rattle her skull and batter her brain. "I'm okay."

"Here," Luan said from her seat, reaching to unbuckle herself. "You can have the sweet spot."

It was exactly what Lynn needed but she shook her head in decline. She wouldn't be mollycoddled after almost acquainting Lincoln with the hellish, chilly gnaw of the grim reaper's scythe.

"I'm alright." It was her mantra of the night (and possibly many more days and nights to come) and she wasn't going to let it go any time soon. "Thanks, Luan."

Lynn settled for the seat between Lori and Leni, way back in the furthest row of seats. She couldn't completely rely on Lucy, her closest confidant out of all her siblings, to not press her for answers and ask incessantly if she was okay.

About a minute later, with everyone aboard, the van drove away, whizzing through the serene, darkened neighborhood that was fractionally brightened by the overhead streetlamps that passed them by.

Five minutes passed and after not a peep from anyone, Lynn thought that she was in the clear to jump over a hurdle, the ease of sleep, in peace. She closed her eyes, her ears filled with the low hum of the van's quiet ride. Even the rough material of the car's seats, jutted springs and all, feel like a fluffy, warm cloud against Lynn's slightly cramped and twisted back, no doubt a result of her hunched over work as she bent over Lincoln and….and…

' _No!'_

His shut eyes, his bluing lips, his croaking chokes, his flailing limbs sapped of strength…the images of his pale, sickly body crammed into her brain, abusing her head pain that's worse than any blow to the head she suffered, recently or otherwise.

Lynn grit her teeth and fidgeted, tugging at the seatbelt that strapped her in place. Her leg brushed against Leni's, causing her to turn and see her younger sister's distress.

"Lynn, are you o-"

"Yes. I'm fine," Lynn insisted through clenched teeth as she halted her incriminating motions, the slideshow of horror finally coming to a stop.

Just how many people were going to ask her that anyways? It was bordering on the territory of annoyance.

Lynn found herself at the center of attention yet again as several pairs of eyes looked back at her, including those of her mother.

"Sweetie, I know you said you're fine but I think you need to get checked by a doctor once we get to Woodland's Hospital Center."

Lynn sighed, her temper flaring. "Really, Mom, I'm-"

"Listen to your mother, Lynn." Lynn bit back a frustrated yell at her father's interjection. "Just because you got a bandage dressing doesn't mean you're out of the woods just yet. It wouldn't hurt to have a little check-up."

Lynn's fists shook, bottled anger simmering underneath the surface. "Dad, come on, I'm fine. _Really_."

A vexed Lori, speaking out in motherly concern, barged in. "Nuh-uh. None of that 'tough guy' nonsense. You're going to see a-"

She was cut off as she watched Lynn slam her hands on her thighs, the sharp slap making her shudder.

"God, will you shut up already?! I said that I'm fine! Just drop it!"

Lynn froze, reliving every scathing burn of the brainless words she uttered. She didn't have time to brace herself from the tide of guilt that sent her reeling, spurring her into tears as her eyes looked upon Lori's hurt face. Her senses were numbed to the deafening silence and shocked faces of her family as they allowed Lynn sight to nothing but Lori's quivering lips, locked in an agape shape, and her blue eyes, welling with her own tears.

"Sorry." Lynn didn't care to wipe away the tears that slid into her mouth as it continued to meekly vocalize her sincerity. "I-I'm really sorry, Lori. I shouldn't have lost my cool. I just…I…I don't know how I can ever…"

When Lori's face hardly changed, unyielding under the tenderness of her sister's apology, Lynn resigned herself to her fate and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Expecting nothing more but silence and an indifferent glower, Lynn turned to look in her lap, fiddling with her fingers nervously. _'Way to blow it.'_

They were stopped in their tracks when Lori's hand reached out and covered them. Lynn gasped from the cordial gesture and the warm feeling of her fingers. She looked up just in time to see Lori's face painted with a smile.

"Apology accepted," Lori said as she used her other hand to brush Lynn's tears away. It was ironic, seeing as Lori had a few tear streaks down her own face.

Before Lynn could return the favor, the least she could do for her horrible behavior, her father spoke up.

"Lynn, how about we make a deal, okay?"

Intrigued, Lynn replied, "What kind of deal?"

"We'll take you to a doctor after we see Lincoln. Deal?"

Even though his proposal was presented like she had a choice, Lynn knew she really didn't. It was either that or the opposite and really, with how restless she was concerning Lincoln, she was left with only one satisfying option.

"Deal."

With that, Lynn tried her hand at shutting her eyes again. She didn't pretend like she was going to succeed in slipping into sleep so soon. All she wanted to do now was wait out the rest of the drive in peace as they headed closer and closer to Lincoln.

Three minutes in and Lynn realized how in over her head she was.

She bit her tongue from an anxious yelp as an errant streak of Lincoln's cracking bones echoed in her skull as they passed over a crunching bump in the road.

Lynn grimaced, the pelting thuds of panic shrieking in her tortured soul. The drive couldn't end soon enough, especially with the discomfort of the pact she slowly started to piece together, a promise that would shape her relationship between her and Lincoln for the rest of their lives.

With any hope, Lincoln would _have_ a life to begin with.

* * *

Woodland's Hospital Center was almost like a second home for Lynn. Over the years, she had plenty of bumps, bruises, scars, and other various injuries that she acquired from her sports ventures, and most of them were treated in this very department.

But as she and her family shuffled down the semi-busy hallways of the ER ward, on their way to Lincoln's room, the familiar medicated smell and familiar red/white checkered tile floor didn't offer her much comfort. Yes, the fact that they were here and not the morgue was a huge sigh of relief but that business with his broken bones refused to settle easy in her gut, way worse than the root beer and chili-flavored popcorn combination from earlier.

' _Popcorn.'_ Lynn nearly spat in disgust. She'd never eat a piece of that damned food ever again.

At last, the nurse guiding them to their destination stopped in front of a room with an opened door.

"Here you are," she said and left them to their own devices.

Lynn didn't follow her family's lead and peer inside, the guilt not allowing her anything but a shy glance that she immediately put a stop to. It should have shocked her, since she had wanted to see Lincoln all along, but she began to realize that "seeing" Lincoln was a privilege that her conscience equated with simply knowing that he was okay. It was the only luxury her moral fiber could allow since in the end, this was all her fault to begin with.

She opted to look down at her cleats instead and flinched at a stray crimson-colored blot on the tip of her left shoe. _'Just how much did I bleed?'_

The mulling lasted for about a second further as the happy, shrill voice of Lola squeaked excitedly. "Lincoln!"

She was met with a sharp shush from her mother, who reached down and grabbed her by the arm to rein her excitement in. The man inside, a bald, rotund man in a lab coat, looked over his shoulder in reaction to the outburst and relieved the family when he didn't appear to be peeved. Instead of walking over to them with a purpose of harsh reprimanding clearly in mind, he greeted them with cordiality and grace.

"May we see our son?" Rita asked when the man approached them.

"Certainly," the unidentified doctor told them. He looked down at Lola and smiled. "Just be sure to remain quiet, please."

Regarding his fair warning gracefully, Lola went inside, followed by the rest of her family…

Except for both Lynn Sr. and Lynn Jr., who remained outside while the doctor closed the door behind him. Lynn Sr. stayed to hear about his son. Lynn Jr., on the other hand, was simply paying part of the due penance that she believed that she was in debt to. Before Lynn Sr. could question his daughter on her stance, the doctor addressed him.

"You're the family, correct?"

"Yes," Lynn Sr. said, a proud smile on his face. "We are."

Lynn Sr. wasn't offended when the doctor chuckled. He was used to getting amused reactions as a reaction to his large family of thirteen.

"Well, as for me," the man said as he shook Lynn Sr.'s hand, "I'm Dr. Bloom."

He coughed in his balled fist before he continued. All manner of professionalism returned to his tone and stature.

"Now, about Lincoln…"

Lynn gulped. The revelation of her horrible misdeed was about to be unfolded. Not even the smile, that graced Dr. Bloom's face, gave her any consolation.

"Simply put, your boy's doing fine. As you could see, he's just resting right now. We have him under an oxygen mask right now but otherwise, he's a picture of perfect health.

Lynn felt a brick of weight drop from her tense shoulders. She already knew Lincoln was alive but "doing fine"? It didn't remove her culpability from the matter but at least that was a sign of good news, a sign that perhaps, she hadn't screwed up half as bad as she believed that she had.

The feeling lasted for only a few seconds before Dr. Bloom's neutral expression returned.

"There are a few…let's just say, issues, that I'd like to address, however. See, we-"

"Issues?"

Dr. Bloom shot down the hasty, slightly panicked retort from Lynn Sr. with an assuring grin, "Yes, but believe me, none of them are severe. He just has a few broken bones, is all. Nothing that can't be healed."

And there it was. Broken bones. Lynn choked back a sob at the plurality of the word. She hadn't just broken one of them. No, no… _multiple_ bones. If Lynn wasn't sure before, she was definitely sure now; a good night's sleep was out of the question.

Her ears barely picked up on what Dr. Bloom had to say next.

"See, before he arrived, his airway had to be unobstructed with CPR from the paramedics that arrived on the scene. Obviously, the CPR was successful and his body was immediately supplied with oxygen to counteract any possibility of brain damage from the hypoxia, or oxygen deprivation, that he might have suffered."

He held a short pause, allowing for both of them to process what he just said.

"However," he continued, "it was noted by our staff that Lincoln had _already_ been artificially ventilated before help had arrived. Upon further examination, we discovered bruising around his abdomen, right around the area of his lower ribs. It was a dead giveaway that someone had tried to give him the Heimlich maneuver."

Lynn felt her pulse beating through her ears and neck, nearly swooning from the spike of blood pressure. She strummed her fingers against her side, trembling at the harsh-sounding discovery of her handiwork, of her botched rescue.

"What's more, it was reported that Lincoln had blunt trauma around his chest, which we were able to notice immediately with yet more light bruising. I had a hunch of some internal injury so I had him examined more thoroughly. Sure enough, after taking some X-rays, we discovered a hairline sternal fracture, along with a hairline fracture of the left side of the ribcage's third pair. Though those injuries don't happen often with CPR, it's always a possibility, nonetheless."

While Lynn did nothing more but mope in her isolated seclusion, Lynn Sr. took an interest at a particular phrase that Dr. Bloom had laid out for them.

"So…when you say he was already 'artificially ventilated'," Lynn Sr. began to ask, casting Lynn a quick glance before returning to the doctor, "does that mean that he was given oxygen before the paramedics came to our house?"

Dr. Bloom nodded. "Precisely. It was extremely vital in ensuring Lincoln's survival. It's safe to say that without it, he'd probably be in dire straits at best and dead at worst."

Lynn felt as if a bomb had been dropped on her own little word, the earth-shattering explosion making her question what she thought was reality in the wake of such a violent intrusion. If this doctor wasn't just making up a crock of nonsense, did he just imply that after all of this time, she had been thinking wrongly? She hadn't made things worse, after all?

She…she saved her brother's life?

"Excuse me."

Lynn was pulled back into the present conversation as the doctor placed a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "Yes?"

"I take it you're the young lady responsible, correct?"

Lynn's eyes widened. She didn't know that psychic abilities were a prerequisite for becoming a doctor.

"Yeah, I am. How'd you know it was me?"

"There were trace amounts of blood sprinkled on his chest. I just took a guess on account of," he pulled his hand away and tapped on his forehead, "that wound on your forehead."

Lynn was only allowed a second too process Dr. Bloom's detective work before she found herself in the center of one of her father's tight hugs as he knelt on the floor and embraced her.

"Did you hear that, Lynn? You should be proud. You're a hero," he whispered.

Lynn cringed at his tone, pride seeping into every word. It was a little too much to be called a hero. Heroes didn't endanger people's lives, especially those of their own family.

Heroes didn't do a lot of things that Lynn had done to her own brother. Yes, she played a role in saving Lincoln but it was from a fate that _she_ had caused him and that didn't make everything okay in her mind.

When her father let go, he was met with further discourse from Dr. Bloom.

"Now then, we'll be keeping him overnight for observation but if all goes well, he should be clear to go home as soon as tomorrow. There are, however, certain things that we need to discuss as far as home treatment. For starters…"

Lynn tuned the man out, intent on settling her own feelings about the situation.

Thankfully, it was much, much better than she had hoped it would be. Lincoln was alive and…mostly well, his fractured bones weren't crippling, and as it turned out, she was an instrumental part in saving Lincoln's life. On any another day, she would've been proud of herself.

But today was not a day for pride or for celebration on Lynn's behalf. She had come to realize an awful, inescapable truth about herself; she brought Lincoln nothing but trouble.

All the good times that they shared seemed to pale in comparison to the instances where she either annoyed or bullied him. He wasn't much of a saint himself but she was the older sister, the one who was supposed to set an example for him, encourage him in his times of need, and ultimately, protect him.

And from now on, that was _exactly_ what she was going to do. She was going to protect him…from _herself_.

She had decided to do as much as she and her family drove to the hospital. The course of action made her squirm in the van but now, her convictions were crystal clear; from now on, she was going to stay the hell away from Lincoln.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hopefully, and I do mean hopefully, the last chapter will be out in good time. Once again, don't hold me to that.


	5. Chapter 5

The call of the Saturday morning birds and the window piercing rays of the Sun didn't do the trick in waking Lynn up, though it did make her stir and mumble in her sleep. However, when a weight softly descended on her lower half, she finally began to awaken, slowly but surely gaining her bearings as she sat up and her half-open eyes tried to gain full disclosure of her surroundings.

When a foggy blot of gray and black, hovering by her bedside, caught her attention, she yawned, "Hey, Lucy."

Rubbing her eyes for clarity, the inky smear of dark colors came fully into focus, revealing that her hunch was indeed correct. But even though Lynn was right to assume it was Lucy, she was wrong to assume that her mouth was fashioned in its traditional gloomy frown, instead of the smile that accompanied her face.

"What's up with you?" Lynn asked as she stretched her arms over her head, popping out tiny cricks in her elbows. "You look awful cheery."

Instead of answering, Lucy seemed content with leaving Lynn out of the loop. Before Lynn could ask why, her sense of smell kicked in, taking in the scent of…breakfast food? Suddenly, she recalled the weight on her legs, which just so happened to be where the smell was coming from. Looking down, she spotted a bed tray, lined up with an assortment of food; pancakes, bacon, orange juice, coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs.

"A small token of our appreciation," Lynn heard Lucy explain as her eyes continued to survey the spread. "We all got up early and made all of this for you."

Lynn cringed. _'Oh yeah. That's right. I'm the 'hero'.'_

Yesterday, on the way home from the hospital, her father was abuzz with pride, explaining to everyone how Lynn had rescued Lincoln with her CPR, keeping enough breath in his body before the paramedics could arrive and handle the rest.

The praise and admiration she got was a hard knock against her conscience and every morsel of gratitude she was "gifted" with only made her feel worse. As morbid as it sounded, Lynn wished that she hadn't been medically cleared yesterday. That way, she'd be in the hospital, far away from the family that wished to fawn over her for only barely contributing to averting a life-threatening crisis that she had initiated.

Of course, with Lucy hanging around, she couldn't bother to show her discomfort for more than three seconds without her detecting the angst in the air, a murky steam radiating from her pores that she seemed able to sniff out. So, in self-preservation, she dropped her discomfort, with a fake smile, in time for Lucy to not catch on to her true feelings, a fact that was evidenced by her proud declaration.

"The black coffee was my contribution."

The quip worked in getting Lynn to chuckle, her first trace of happiness in what felt like weeks. "Heh. Obviously."

She took a sip from the mug, savoring the hot blend as it washed out the groggy, morning feeling in her gullet. "Thanks, Luce," she said after putting her mug down.

"No, Lynn. Thank _you_."

Lynn held down a groan. Okay, she got it. She was a hero (even though she _totally_ wasn't). They didn't need to remind her every five seconds.

"By the way," Lucy said, "not to rush you or anything but once you're done eating, we'll be going to go pick up Lincoln."

Lynn froze as her eyes widened and her pupils shrank into beads; her "staying away from Lincoln" plan couldn't exactly work if she was going to go see him.

And besides that, there was a good chance that Lincoln resented her very existence for what he had been put through by her hands. Lincoln would be sure to tell them what she did and there wasn't a chance in hell that she wanted to be anywhere near that revelation. She didn't plan on running away from the judgment she'd get after that, since she knew she deserved that much, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to cherish any few moments of solace before that bomb was dropped on them.

Her "deer in the headlights" reaction was as big of an advertisement for her panic as anything and unfortunately for her, Lucy was quite literate in the expression of fear.

"Lynn?" Lucy asked, reaching out to place a and on top of hers.

The warmth against her hand snapped her out of her trance but judging by Lucy's expectant face, it was too little, too late. Either Lynn was going to have to come clean, thus simultaneously revealing that she had nearly killed her brother, or she was going to have to lie, a tempting option despite the odds being against her success.

Lynn settled for the latter option without a second thought, though all her brain could force her to articulate was a mumbled, "I don't…"

Lucy's frown and folded arms only served to induce more panic. _'Come on, Lynn! Think!'_

"Um…I-I…" When a meager but manifest pang of pain suddenly shot through her overworked brain, the lingering ache of her bruised skull rearing its ugly head, her answer was handed to her on a prettier platter than her breakfast was. "My head still kinda hurts. You mind telling Mom and Dad that I'm not up to going anywhere today? I just wanna rest."

She thought about sliding her hand up to lightly tap her bandaged gash in for emphasis but Lucy's quick response heeded that unnecessary. "Okay."

Lynn blinked, not believing that Lucy had given to her lie so quickly, seemingly taking every word as the truth.

' _Well, that was easier than I-'_

"But when you're up to telling me what's _really_ bothering you, you can always confide in me."

' _Crap.'_

With that, Lucy left the room, leaving Lynn behind to do nothing but bemoan her fate. Everything was all smiles and sunshine now but when her family came back, they'd rightfully read her the riot act and possibly treat her less like family and more like…like…like someone that they just _had_ to put up with until she was legally old enough to leave the house.

' _I guess that's all I deserve,_ ' Lynn thought as she reached over and set her breakfast platter on the floor, her appetite absent before it could ever be lost.

She'd have plenty to digest once her family got home, anyways. They'd make sure of that.

* * *

Even with a family as big as his, a usual recipe form of being tended to right away, Lincoln was accustomed to being in the center of attention, whether it was at his expense or not. But nothing compared to being greeted by tearful, smiling faces of his sisters and parents as they picked him up from the hospital, fussing and worrying about him like he was going to disappear from their lives at a moment's notice.

' _Or die on them,'_ Lincoln thought as he entered the van and got himself buckled up.

Strapping himself in was a bit of a pain. The tight buckle strap pressed into his body, squeezing slightly down on his sore chest and the fractured ribs underneath. It made him wince but he tried to put on a brave face before anyone could spot his discomfort, not wanting anyone to worry about him long after everything had been okay.

It didn't work. Lola, having caught her brother flashing a gritted scowl, quickly put two and two together, commandeered a seat right to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist in a warm but rather constricting hug, careful not to do so around his bruised chest and cracked bones. He would've protested immediately…had he not found the gesture kinda cute.

Besides, a large dose of some family loving was literally what the doctor ordered, along with other precautions that he had to take care of until his body fully healed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes into the drive and Lincoln was on the edge of his seat while his father finished up his account of what had happened to him and how ultimately, his life was saved.

"Seriously? She did all of that?" Lincoln asked, wonder swelling in his voice. "That's…that's amazing."

"It sure is, Lincoln," Lynn Sr. said, a proud grin on his face. "It sure is."

' _Lynn saved me.'_ If Lincoln were honest, his opinion about Lynn wouldn't have soured if he were saved, and therefore alive to have an opinion in the first place, but she had nothing to do about it. He knew Lynn, as abrasive as she was, wouldn't intentionally choke him out with popcorn. It was a tragic accident that she hadn't meant to cause, simple as that.

But she _had_ saved him. If there was a way to make a lasting impression on Lincoln, that was certainly the way to do it. But in the crux of his borderline hero worship of his sister, he was a little disappointed that Lynn was apparently too tired to want to leave the house today.

"Too bad she's not here. I really wanted to thank her." The angst didn't last long, though, as a huge grin formed at the thought of what he'd do to her when he got home. "Ah well, when I get home, I'm gonna give her the biggest hug in the world and tell her how much she means to me."

"Not with those bones of yours, you're not," Rita said. "Remember, you're not supposed to do anything strenuous on your body for up to two months. That includes really big hugs, I'm afraid."

Lincoln slumped back in his seat, a little crestfallen. "Dang it."

"And Lincoln," she further added, "I hope you've learned to be way more careful when you're eating. You can't just shovel food into your mouth so quickly. Choking is a serious health hazard and you're lucky Lynn was around to keep you alive."

"Yes, Mom," Lincoln said, pleased that his little white lie had been received without skepticism.

One of the first things he was asked, in the van, was what had happened to him that night. He mostly told the truth; he choked on some popcorn that he and Lynn had been eating (although she had done most of that herself). He conveniently left out the part where it had been Lynn that had accidentally choked him, fearing that his family would chew Lynn out over a mistake.

And now that he knew what Lynn had done for him, he was happier with his fib than ever. Lynn had covered for him in a way that he never thought he could ever do. Was it really too much to ask for him to do the same thing for her, even if it wasn't to as big of a degree as that?

"And speaking of which," Lynn Sr. said, "I think we can all agree that taking up CPR classes is something that we'll all be doing in the immediate future, whenever we can. If any of us chokes, or if we see another person choking, we should all be prepared. Agreed?"

"Agreed," was the wholehearted response he got from a family in unison.

* * *

It didn't truly dawn on him, the fortune that was conferred to him, until he made it through the front door behind his family, peering around the living room as if he hadn't seen it in years. ' _I'm…I'm home.'_

He was home because it was possible. He was home because he was able. He was home…because he was _alive_. He shouldn't be here, living and breathing among family. The reality of a less fortunate ending sunk in as he walked slowly towards the couch, feeling tendrils of dread overcome him as he remembered the fits of panic and struggle that he endured on it less than a day ago. They were the last few traces of memories he recalled before he blacked out, the deafening cries of his Lynn carrying him on towards oblivion.

' _Lynn!'_ Lincoln thought excitedly, the chains of his creeping dread breaking at the thought of his sister, his savior.

Maybe the dubbing of such a title would be too grandiose for some but Lincoln wasn't an ungrateful boy, even more so with matters of life and death; his life spared and his death avoided.

Knowing his place as both a thankful brother and a relieved soul, Lincoln dutifully made his way up the stairs, his feet unknowingly tracing over the arduous path his sister endured for him last night. Upon arriving at her bedroom door, he gave it a few knocks. "Lynn?"

When no answer came, he tried his luck again, this time speaking a bit louder. "Hey, Lynn?"

Wondering why Lynn wasn't answering him, Lincoln was about to knock on the door again…

Until he remembered precisely why she couldn't show up at the hospital with everyone else to begin with. _'Oops. I forgot she's still resting.'_

Tiptoeing away as quietly as he could, he settled on talking to her at a later time after he got some time to just chill out in his bedroom without any thought of venturing out of the house, an activity prohibited by concerned parents and sisters alike; they wanted him to simply rest for a few days under home surveillance.

The inability to perform extraordinary superhero feats prevented Lincoln from seeing the truth of the matter. For instance, if Lincoln had the ability to see through doors, he'd see not a resting Lynn but a Lynn who curled under her blankets, her lips pursed and her eyes housing unshed tears.

* * *

There were three things that made Lincoln's retirement to bed more difficult than usual.

One, he couldn't lay down on his side or on his back like he normally did. By doctor's orders, Lincoln was instructed to sleep with his back against the headboard, the safest position in ensuring that he didn't roll over on his ribs and press down on them in his sleep. Thirty minutes in and Lincoln wasn't any closer to feeling any more comfortable with the position than when he started.

Two, once again, he found himself in the close company of Lola, who had been attached to him by the hip since he got discharged from the hospital. He knew it had to do with her concern for his well-being, a sentiment that he found rather sweet. Problem was, her sleep hugging was really clenched on tight, making his waist slightly numbed by the compression.

Oh, and her snoring wasn't very pleasant, either. Still, at least she was getting a good night's sleep.

Third, and most bothersome, he couldn't keep Lynn off his mind. Not that thinking about Lynn was the problem itself but the issue surrounding her was…disheartening, to say the least. Quite frankly, she was starting to concern him.

Thanks to Lincoln's injuries, he wasn't allowed to move around the house freely. Although he was mostly grounded in his room for the entire day, only permitted to get up to go to the bathroom or watch a few hours of TV, he hadn't seen a trace of Lynn almost all day. Whenever he would ask one of his sisters where she was, they'd either report back to him and tell him that they couldn't find her or that she was still resting. The fact that she was apparently up and about at certain points, even without her exact whereabouts known, implied that she was aware of her surroundings, thus aware of the fact that he had come back.

Lincoln found it completely out of character for Lynn, of all people, to not want to check up on him, even if her supposed tiredness made it difficult. Besides, when he finally _did_ see her at dinner time, he had an inkling that she was feeling way more than tired…

* * *

 _During dinner, more often than not, at least one Loud would have the have the floor as they broadcasted events about their day and/or other musings that they simply had to share with the others._

 _At the moment, it was Leni's turn to talk and her present conversation served two purposes; to tell Lincoln and Lynn about what she and her family did at the Korean BBQ restaurant from last night and to get to the bottom of a little spat she had with one of the waitresses._

" _I still don't get why she had to be all upset," Leni said, bemused and a tinge irritated. "I was just trying to make some suggestions about how her hair could look a little better. Buns are cute but I thought the red bobby pins didn't really match her hair color."_

 _Once her story was finished, she expected a few sympathetic murmurs of agreement, understanding nods, and a hearty declaration that Leni hadn't deserved to get snapped at. Instead, she got a few muffled snickers (the most prominent coming from Luna) and an explanation from Lori that set things into perspective._

" _Leni, that's not how you're supposed to give tips to your waitresses." She rubbed her thumb against the tips of her middle and pointer finger. "You use money."_

 _Leni just stared off into space at the revelation, her face displaying a grasping clutch of understanding that settled after about eight seconds._

" _Oh." Her cheeks bloomed pink and she rubbed the back of her head, a sheepish grin spread on her face. "Whoops."_

 _A good-natured uproar of laughter ensued, something that even Leni found herself participating in. Once it died down, Rita turned towards Lincoln, who was minding his plate of food…as well as anyone would with a younger sister who insisted on feeding him, even though he was perfectly capable of eating his roasted tomato basil soup on his own. 'Seriously, Lola, I can eat with a spoon by myself.'_

" _Say, Lincoln, there was something that you wanted to say to Lynn, right? I hear you haven't gotten the chance all day."_

 _Lincoln perked up, looking over Lola and the spoon of hot soup that she was about to feed him. "Yeah. There was," he said and turned his gaze towards Lynn, whom sat at the farthest end of the table away from him._

 _What greeted Lincoln's eyes was something that he found hard to believe, even after seeing it before literally minutes ago. The gloom in her frown, the sadness in her hunched posture, and the misery in her blank eyes rendered Lincoln almost speechless. He had a feeling that Lynn was acting off today. Not only had their paths not crossed today, before now, but since he was the last one to come down for dinner, that meant that all eyes were on him as he entered the dining room._

 _All eyes…except for Lynn, whom like now, had her focus trained down at her silverware, unconcerned with the entry of the brother whose life she helped to save. He hadn't mused over any unfortunate implications of her behavior for long, since the lull of familial conversation took his mind off of it._

 _But now, with the proverbial spotlight on the both of them, Lincoln was now more concerned than ever. Lynn hadn't given him a cursory glance at the announcement of the simple yet truthful words of gratitude that he had for her._

 _All the same, who was to say she wouldn't come around to cheering up if he just got right down to business now?_

 _Optimistic about a positive outcome, Lincoln cleared his throat before he spoke from the heart. "Thanks for saving my life, Lynn. I don't know what'd I do without you around. You really are #1."_

 _To his chagrin, he got some "aaaw's" for his trouble, eliciting him to frown half-heartedly. He hadn't tried to sound all cutesy._

 _But as he looked at Lynn, amidst the feel-good vibes in the room, he only found her stationed fixedly in her somberness. The only sign of acknowledgement he got from her was even more troubling than the sullen silence that she had given him._

" _Thanks."_

 _The words rang hollow to no one but Lincoln and of course, Lynn. That strained, force utterance couldn't make it more obvious to Lincoln; Lynn was a perturbed spirit and he was a huge reason for it._

* * *

Lincoln felt himself relenting to the drifting call of unconsciousness, his thoughts still with Lynn and her strange demeanor.

He didn't know _why_ Lynn would feel that way about him but enmity with him was honestly the only thing that made sense to him as he mulled it over in his drowsy head.

Before he was finally lulled to sleep, he decided not to bother with it any longer. In his sleep-addled mind, Lynn would come around to talking to him, probably as soon as tomorrow where she'd explain herself.

For now, he was content with simply cherishing the second chance he had at life, surrounded by loved ones and the calming, serene evening backdrop.

* * *

 _Four days later…_

"Lola, I _just_ put an ice pack on. I'm supposed to be taking a break from it until the next hour comes around."

"No sassing back, mister! The more you have it on, the faster you'll heal!"

"Lola, that's not the way it-"

"Hush!"

Knowing that fighting back was futile, Lincoln let "Nurse Lola" have her way with him as she applied a brand-new ice pack to her bedridden brother. Well, technically he wasn't really "bedridden" anymore. After two days, he was allowed to roam around the house freely and even hang out with friends, as long as he promised to do nothing to exacerbate his injuries. On top of that, he was trusted to handle applying ice packs to his chest on his own, a means to reduce the swelling while his bones steadily healed.

' _Too bad Lola didn't get the memo,'_ Lincoln thought as Lola hopped off his bed after making sure that he wouldn't just toss the ice pack away.

"See? Your chest looks better already," Lola said as she headed towards the door. "I'll be back in thirty minutes to check up on you."

She paused before she could reach the doorknob. Looking over her shoulder, she squinted at him and warned, "That ice pack had _better_ be there by the time I come back."

' _You wish,'_ Lincoln thought as Lola left him, flinging away the ice pack across the room and wiping the cold sheen of water gingerly off his skin.

It wasn't as if he hated Lola's company but with her finally out his hair…

' _For half an hour, at least.'_

He could finally get down to the unfinished business he had with Lynn. Their relationship hadn't gotten any better. For four days, Lincoln was given the cold shoulder by her tomboy sister, who rarely ever crossed paths with him as she went about her business. The scarcity of their brief interactions was definitely intended; Lincoln could tell as much with how flat out uncomfortable she looked every time he got close to her or she saw him coming her way.

Why, just this morning before school, Lynn just so happened to be last in line for the bathroom before he had shown up after his sisters. When he caught her noticing him approaching, she made a beeline for the front of the line, cutting in front of grumbling, befuddled sisters while rushing out an excuse about having to use the bathroom before she peed herself.

After that, Lincoln knew that he had to do something. Simply weathering the storm and waiting for Lynn to come around wasn't going to work. He had to be the one to set things right and luckily, he was in a good position to do just that.

Right now, most of his sisters had accompanied their parents while they went to the grocery store. The only ones to stay behind were Lori, Lucy, Lola…and Lynn. Last time he checked, both Lucy and Lynn were in their bedroom right now, meaning that if he simply asked Lucy to open the door to let him in, Lynn would be caught off guard and unable to escape. Of course, he'd have to be a lot sneakier than announcing his presence by knocking on the door.

With that in mind, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, found Lucy in his list of contacts, and texted her, _"Could you open the door to you room for me? Oh, and don't tell Lynn I'm coming, please."_

He looked at the screen with bated breath until a few seconds later, he was replied with the response he had been looking for. _"Alright."_

' _Perfect,'_ Lincoln thought as he jumped out of bed and made his way over to his destination.

* * *

"What'cha grinnin' at, sis? You talking to Rocky again?"

Lynn, who was browsing through a fitness equipment magazine, had just caught Lucy texting someone from her side of the room. The bubbly grin on her face suggested that she was conversing with a boy she was _really_ fond of. What better opportunity to throw in a little teasing her little sister's way than this?

Instead of retorting back in a flushed stupor like she thought she'd do, Lucy simply shot her a grin that made Lynn's heartbeat spike. That toothy smile wasn't an expression she often saw from the poet but it was the underlined mischief of it all that made Lynn nervous.

Just what was Lucy up to?

She found out once Lucy got up from her bed, walked over to their bedroom door, and opened it.

Lynn dropped her magazine in surprise at their unexpected visitor. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and her agape mouth failed to vocalize anything other than a blend of squeaky, croaked consonants.

"Gah…abbah…whuah…hatta…huh…"

"I'll just leave you two alone," Lucy said and shuffled past Lincoln, leaving her brother to handle the angst that Lynn hadn't bother to divulge to her.

The sound of the shutting door snapped Lynn out of her babbling fit but her mood didn't fare any better when Lincoln's firm, resolute stance stood brazenly in front of her only means of escape. Jittery nerves bound her tongue under submission, rendering her incapable of speech. The fear she felt shamed her. She knew it would come down to this eventually; Lincoln's patience with her was sure to run thin eventually.

She just didn't expect it so soon. She thought her little brother would be more passive and not bother her about her aloofness until weeks, perhaps even months, down the line. It suited her just fine; that amount time was more than ample enough for her to draw enough courage to tell Lincoln what she had to do as a repentant big sister who just wanted to look out for him.

But if his glaring eyes and rigid scowl were reliable signs of his temperament, that sort of proclamation would be about as warmly received as a fart in church.

"You know why I'm here, Lynn," Lincoln finally said, placing his hands on his hips and frowning. "And I don't care how long it takes. I'll stay here all day long if I have to. Neither one of us are going anywhere until you explain yourself."

And there it was, his motivation behind his boldness. There was no question about it now; Lincoln wasn't going to take another second of her long distant tactics…at least, without an explanation. The chances for acceptance were slim but in the face of flat out rejection through silence, Lynn suddenly found her unwillingness to disclose her inner thoughts foolish. At least with a clarification of her actions, perhaps Lincoln could see the same light that she had.

"Fine," Lynn said, finding her voice and sliding over to sit on the side of her bed. "I'll tell you."

Though she promised to talk, she still couldn't look into his eyes. "First of all, you can't even begin to imagine how sorry I am about what I did to you. I was being really stupid and it nearly killed you."

"It's okay, Lynn," Lincoln said. "I'm not mad at you."

Lynn frowned, finding Lincoln's forgiveness almost sickening. It was like he was disconnected from reality. Didn't he realize what he had suffered because of her? Didn't any of that matter to him?

She had her suspicions that it _didn't_. After all, no one had verbally castrated her for nearly killing Lincoln. It could've just been a coincidence that the conversation of the cause of his peril just never came up but now that Lynn took in Lincoln's pardon, there was the strong possibility that he had flat out lied to save her skin.

She didn't want to look gift horses in the mouth or anything but still, would it kill Lincoln to reflect the weight of that horrific experience just a _little_ bit? A little bit of anger wasn't going to hurt her...much.

"You want to know the truth?" Lynn asked with hardiness edged in her tone. She almost missed him nodding as she looked up at him. "Fine. From now on, I'm keeping my distance from you. You don't need to hang around me, Lincoln."

She didn't expect his face to almost stutter under boiling anger. It made her flinch and his simple reply made her throat dry.

" _What?_ "

She gulped. "You heard me."

She thought that she didn't need to tell him anything else other than that. It was more out of a need for her own peace of mind than out of necessity; she had a feeling that telling him that she was a burden to him would only result in an argument. Oh God, what if he told his sisters or parents about her? Even after finding out that he didn't rat her out to everyone about her role in Lincoln's near-death experience, the fear of that outcome slowly sapped her of her courage.

"That's not an answer, Lynn." She recoiled at the bitterness in his voice and the knowledge that he was right. " _Explain_ yourself. Why are you trying to avoid me?"

She was prepared to just sit there, just sit there and not say another word and hope that Lincoln would do all the heavy lifting by picking up on her feelings and respecting them by leaving her room.

Lincoln's next move took her by surprise; she was floored, almost to the point of righteous indignation, when his face formed a sorrowful look and his voice carried out a frail whisper of, "Do you…hate me?"

"What?!" Lynn shot to her feet. "No! God, no! I would never…"

She growled and facepalmed, shaking her head at the realization that she would have to get this over with by going all the way. "I can't believe I have to spell it out for you."

Sighing, she blurted out her intentions before timidity could paralyze her voice. "Lincoln, I'm terrible to you. I'm always taking you for granted, mistreating you, making you feel bad about yourse-"

"Lynn, come _on_ ," Lincoln grumbled, mirroring Lynn's perturbance. "Not this spiel again."

Lynn scowled at the interjection but continued with what she felt was the most important in conveying. "And when I'm not blaming you for losing baseball games, I'm nearly killing you with popcorn. I'm just no good for you, Lincoln. You're better off just staying away from me from now on. I can't be trusted."

Lincoln took a few steps forward. "Lynn, that's ridiculous. It was an accident. You don't have t-"

"No!" She almost felt guilty about how he froze up and recoiled from the shout. _Almost_. His perspective was way too messed up to be handled delicately. "A plate slipping out of your hand and breaking on the floor is an accident. Throwing a football through a window is an accident. Me almost _killing_ you is me being a careless idiot and a horrible sister. You can't put that on the same level as some accident, something you can fix."

"But…"

Lynn couldn't help but feel proud of herself, even with how defeated and downhearted Lincoln looked as he gazed at the floor. It was high time that he started to understand what was necessary. It'd hurt at first but after a while, they'd be at terms with what their relationship had to be from now on.

Unfortunately, Lynn confused his brief silence for quelled resistance.

"But you _did_ fix it. You saved me, Lynn," Lincoln said as he stared at Lynn. "You're a hero."

Lynn groaned at the reverence, having grown sick and tired of that lauding under such an undeserving title. "I'm no hero," she said. "I'm a monster. Please, Lincoln, just stay away from me. Do it for your own good. You know this is the way it has to be."

Lincoln shook his head and to make matters worse, that gosh darn smile of his returned. It was unfair to pull that card on him; it almost always worked at lifting her spirits.

"Lincoln, come on. I'm just trying to look out for you."

Then, in a move that stunned her on the spot, Lincoln ran towards her, his arms stretched out. She was too taken aback to do anything until the last second, when she yelped at the hug that Lincoln cinched on her. The momentum of his sprint sent them both falling backwards, causing Lynn softly land on her bed with Lincoln on top of her.

"Lincoln!" she cried, jostling about to break free out of instinct. "Why're you doing this?!"

She stopped her frantic movements when she remembered his ribs and how her thrashing was probably smacking into them carelessly. His sharp hiss, from an accidental elbow nudge to his chest, confirmed that and guilt ran through her like a hot knife.

"You're hurt," Lynn said as she stilled her movements. "You shouldn't be…"

Her protests died on her when he ignored her in favor of hugging her even tighter. The tenderness undulated tremors of fuzzy warmth that nestled in her belly. He was really making it difficult for her to stand her ground.

"L-Lincoln, come on. Get off. Please."

"No." Lincoln propped himself on both of his hands, his arms on either side of her head. "I'm not going anywhere, Lynn. I don't care what anyone says. You don't deserve to feel sorry for yourself because of what happened."

"But I-"

"An accident, Lynn. It was an accident. You didn't mean to choke me. Better still, you saved my life. How am I supposed to just forget all of that? How am I supposed to forget what a cool, awesome sister you are?"

"Awesome" and "cool" weren't words that Lynn would use to describe herself anymore but they were sentiments that still resided in a place of genuine scrutiny. It began to chip away at the stony resolve that she had fortified for both their sakes and a quiet part of her conscience begged for it to be blown away completely.

God, how she missed this.

"And you know what's _not_ an accident?" Lincoln asked. "Treating you like garbage because of some fancy limo. You know what _else_ isn't an accident? Trying to make you and my other sisters into some 'perfect family photo', just so I didn't feel bad about myself. Or how about filming your embarrassing moments so I could win a trophy? _That_ wasn't an accident, either.

And yet you still forgave me for all of those things, Lynn. So what if you're not perfect? So what if you get on my nerves sometimes? I don't love you because you're perfect. I love you because of who you are already; an energetic, fun-loving sister that just wants to show me how great the outside world can be."

Lynn, once again, was at a loss for words. She knew she wasn't delirious; Lincoln was actually willing to endure the worst of her for the best of her, even after she felt like she didn't show it enough for her to feel like she was worth the trouble to him.

She gasped when drops of wetness began trickling down her face.

"Please, Lynn," Lincoln begged, tears flowing out of his eyes. "Don't take that away from me. I love you."

It was too much; Lynn's throat clenched from a forming lump as she reached out to hug Lincoln back. Her body hadn't been racked with so much emotion since that terrible night, only know she was overwhelmed with joy and relief instead of fear and guilt.

"Okay," Lynn said and she chuckled when Lincoln squealed excitedly.

While they embraced, Lynn waited for the crumbled pieces of her resolution to take shape again, to call out to her from its desolated form and beg her to reconsider the four days of work she destroyed.

She swelled in relief when she didn't.

* * *

She had no idea how much time had passed by since their hug had started but by now, Lynn had a better understanding of what she needed to do if she and Lincoln were going to be better than ever.

"Lincoln," Lynn said, "Things are going to change; no if's, and's, or but's."

She almost chuckled when Lincoln looked back at her with some uneasiness, as if she was going to pull the rug out from under him after everything that they had promised. She'd never admit it to his face but he could be really cute sometimes.

"If we're gonna spend time together, I'm gonna let you take the lead more often. I'm always the one pulling you into doing stuff with me. This time around, I'll let _you_ take charge."

In her haste to always be the big sister, the one responsible for teaching him and helping him grow stronger, she realized that she had never let Lincoln allow them to spend time with his own interests. Even on that fateful night, Lynn expressed a similar vow but it still wasn't enough; she had been the one to set the stage.

That was _going_ to change and judging by Lincoln's smile, he was open to the prospect himself.

"Really?"

Lynn nodded. "Really."

Then, in a reaction that made Lincoln falter at first glance, Lynn started sniffling…and crying. Though her smile never left her face, Lincoln was still concerned enough to ask, "Lynn, are you okay?"

There was that question again. Lynn had been used to hearing that since that night but in this situation, she was far from annoyed by it.

"Yeah," she said, sniffling. "I'm fine."

And this time, she really meant it.


End file.
